Melodies, parodies, carols and barrels of cheer!

Gaston de ROSAYRO

I thought I had survived the frenzied seasonal stampede and made it through to Christmas Day with my decrepit body and sanity intact. Yes, I have endured running the gauntlet of the loud noisy malls with thousands of people trying to maul one another. That is why they are called mauls by the more timid shoppers.

Now if Christmas was anything like last year I must be half awake. The carols heralding the midnight service actually sounded almost as seraphic as those sung by Hark and Harold and their angelic choir. I thought that it being New Year’s Day I would be at least given a respite from the holiday music. But no, this overused melodic nemesis piped in the malls and lifts and waiting rooms has been following me everywhere for almost a month.

My ears have been assailed by the ‘Fa la-la-la-las’ and the ‘Rum-pa-pa-pums.’ which are still echoing in my ears. They have actually become exasperating with their bankrupt repertoire. I am sure you would agree with me wholesale, and retail that I am fed up with hearing ‘Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!’ ‘Jingle bell . . .Hell’! An overdose of the holiday music has me already in a holi-daze!

I regret now how I recalled the schoolboy antics of my good friend and former classmate Bonnie Boyd to the grandkids. They thought he was a hilarious lyrical genius. Worse still they thought he was an icon to be followed as an example. Yes, I am referring to the same Boyd whose full-throated bell-like contralto drowned the rest of the songbirds in the primary school choir. He was not actually a nightingale, but nonetheless he always had his mates in gales of laughter with his naughty song parodies.

Whenever the hymns were being sung he would substitute words such as Allapang-Loolla for ‘Alleluia’ or ‘Get-Some-Money’ for the reverent Lenten hymn Gethsamane. Time and again he was detected by a vigilant teacher mostly because he kept a serious demeanour while his mates guffawed at his lampooning lyrics.

Yet nothing could dissuade him from his twisted takeoffs. Nothing, categorically nothing, could lessen this burlesque mania. He was flogged ruthlessly for this addiction to satirize by fuming teachers and religious La-Sallian Brothers at our old school St. Bens.

The thunderous slaps he received for this particular transgression were of such stunning quality that sounds of the wallops reverberated in the ears of the unpunished students long after they had been administered. But Boyd remained oblivious to the punishment meted out by the slap-happy pedagogues. Astonishingly he remained unmoved although both his facial cheeks and his blistered bottom took on the distinct resemblance of a baboon’s flaming red butt.

Still you did have to admire his affinity for turning the other cheek even if it was not done solely in the true spirit of Christianity. Now the grandkids have caught on to copying the holiday song raillery. And what do I keep hearing? Parodies, parodies and more lyrical parodies. Right throughout the season I hear my little ‘Loony Tunes’ Chipmunk quartet distort the holiday lyrics.

Am I hearing things or are the tiny voices really singing: “While shepherds wash their socks by night!” And when they serve the postman, the drivers and faithful old retainers who always drop by with the seasonal goodies they belt out in full throated unison: “Oh come all ye faithful come and get a plateful!”

Hey, it is really is New Year’s morning and I do believe I have red and green bags under my eyes. No they are actually black. The imagined hues are just a reflection of the green pine tree, the decorative seasonal tinsel and bunting which can play tricks on your eyes. No I am not referring to some of those old society bags who really do tote designer handbags and have Gucci bags under their eyes to match. I find myself half awake all swaddled in Christmas decorations. The kids have been having a great time wrapping their exhausted old man in all kinds of streamers and bunting. Ok I turn around in bed and hear sleigh bells. Sleigh bells? Ok but they are bells of some kind and make a heck of a noisy jingle as I turn around. When I attempt to ignore the jingling jangling as I snuggle under the blanket the bells go ding-a-ling-a-ling. I realise by now that I have been festooned with bells on my toes as well.

Now I perceive that the wake-up offensive has been mounted on the scale of a D-Day invasion by midget insurgents. There is a cacophony of sounds with rattles, blowouts, squawkers, party horns and cap guns firing directly into my eardrums at point blank range. And then Kingsley the tiniest of the clan has been persuaded to climb into my bed and quip: “Hey wakey, wakey Dada. It’s New Year! “ I turn around and drawl menacingly: “Go away. Who are you? I don’t know you. This is not Dada. It is the Vampire!”

They respond with another parody: “We three kings of orient are. Trying to smoke a rubber cigar. It was loaded it exploded. Now we’re on yonder star...” However grumpy I feel there is no getting away from being imbued with the Christmas spirit as I blast off with my own answer in my own ‘Barimatone’: “All I want for Christmas is a good night’s sleep. A good night’s sleep, a good night’s sleep. All I want for Christmas is my bed to myself, without this intruding little elf.”

It is only 7.15 in the morning and I distinctly hear the presence of the earliest visitor. It is the beautiful baritone voice of Boyd belting out the classic, ‘It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year’. To be sure he has as usual parodied it with: ‘It`s the most wonderful time for a Beer!’

This time I am out of bed and the invaders scatter with frightful screams. My toe bells jingle as I wade knee deep through reams of discarded gift wrapping. I have a funny taste in my mouth and manage to cough up some disgusting tinsel. And that is the reason I have lost my voice. Even while suffering a bout of ‘tinsel-itits’ let me wish you all a Merry Christmas and a pukkah prosperous New Year.

For the convenience of all my appreciative lady readers aged nine to 109 I will be standing under the mistletoe all day. So if you happen to be passing through let’s have a jolly Christmas and New Year ‘Smackeroo!’

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